A Tale of Magic and Monsters and Lords
by MissCarolineForbes
Summary: "When a dragon is born during the Long Winter, and magic returns to the Realm, she will come back to us..." Those are the words Mari's mother whispered in her ear after her baby sister, Ashlin Rose, vanished. 13yrs Later: Ashlin returns to Westeros, but Mari fears her life is in danger. Rated T for now, M for later. Jon S/OC Ashlin & Robb S/OC Mari.
1. Chapter 1 A Storm Is Coming

**Quick Author's Note: Thanks for checking out my first ever Game of Thrones story! I am a new watcher of the show, but I got hooked right away, watched the first two seasons in like a week, and now I'm all caught up to Season 3. I haven't read too much GoT fiction, but I got this idea and I had to start writing it. This story begins at the end of Season 1 and continues on throughout Seasons 2 & 3. It is based around two sisters (OC's) and the Stark family (because, come on, they're awesome), specifically Jon Snow and Robb Stark. It is a Jon Snow/OC & Robb Stark/OC (not the same OC for both, just to clarify) romance, but it is so much more than that. It is an epic adventure about love and loss and family, with some magic and monsters and lords thrown in, and I really hope you guys like it! :)**

_DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Game of Thrones or any of its characters and place. I only own Mari and Storm, and any other made-up characters you may see. _

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**A Tale of Magic and Monsters and Lords**

**Chapter 1. A Storm Is Coming**

**_Mari_**

"_When a dragon is born during the Long Winter...and magic returns to the realm...she will come back to us..._"

I still remember my mother whispering these words in my ear, night after night, believing without a doubt they were truth. I believed too, at first, when the memory of my baby sister was fresh in my mind, and I was so little that anything seemed possible. I had seen with my own eyes that the impossible was possible, but time has altered my opinion, and everything is so different now that I wonder if I made it all up in my head. Maybe I made up the baby sister who vanished thirteen years ago. Maybe I even made up the perfect, loving mother I once had, or the proud and devoted father who used to be my protector. Maybe...

No. No, it was not made up. I had a family once, but it was stolen from me, and now I have nothing. Now, I am called 'Mari Flowers', a bastard from the Reach, and a ward of Lady Olenna; who is mother of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden. I have no sister. I have no parents. I have no home. But I did, once upon a time...

Thirteen years ago, I was four years old, and I lived in the castle Bitterbridge, which is two days' ride north of Highgarden. I was not called Mari Flowers, the bastard girl, but Lady Mariene Iris, daughter of the Lord of Bitterbridge. My father, Shaene Tyrell, is Mace Tyrell's younger, and more handsome as my mother used to say, brother. My mother, Lady Adelina Tyrell, was an exotic beauty born across the Narrow Sea in the far east of Essos. Mother captured the eye of my father nearly two decades ago, and Father says that he knew the first time they met that she would be his wife. The love between my parents was pure and honest, they loved each other unconditionally, and my heart still aches to think of how little time they truly had with one another. They married only a year after crossing paths for the first time, when Father was barely a man and mother younger than I am now. It was after their marriage that my grandfather, Luthor Tyrell, made my father the Lord of Bitterbridge, also stepping down as Lord of Highgarden and naming his eldest son the new Lord. My uncle Mace Tyrell birthed four children with his wife Alerie, three strong boys and a beautiful baby girl, before my parents had their first child; me. One month after my first nameday, though, my baby sister was born, and Mother said our family was complete.

They named her Ashlin Rose, and she was as beautiful as her name; fair skin, pink lips and cheeks, and hair and eyes the color of warm honey. It was on her third nameday that she disappeared before my very eyes, never to be seen again. Soon after that, Mother was killed, and my father was broken without her. He tried, for me, to remain the man he was, but it was a feat too impossible for him to bear alone. He denounced his title, fled north to the Wall, and made himself a brother of the Night's Watch. I was left in the care of my Uncle Mace, who eventually passed me on to my Grandmother Olenna, but neither cared for me as my parents did; neither could replace their love or fill the hole they left in my heart. It was decided amongst my caretakers that I would be known as 'Mari Flowers' and not 'Mariene Iris Tyrell', that I would forever be known as a bastard and not the daughter of a Lord and Lady who _loved me. _The wonderful, fairy-tale of a life I had was over, and my new life was bleak and depressing.

"_When a dragon is born during the Long Winter...and magic returns to the realm...she will come back to us..._"

Every night, before I go to sleep, I close my eyes and I recall my mother's voice saying the words in my ear as she held me in her tight embrace. I can still see her face, every detail fresh in my mind even after all this time, and I remember how fiercely she believed those three things would occur and Ashlin would be returned. Dragons haven't been in existence for a thousand years, not since they were all killed off, but Mother said 'things never truly die'. Winter is coming though, as the Starks say, but I have little faith a dragon will be born this winter. As for magic returning to the realm, the only magic I've ever witnessed was my sister's disappearance, which my mother explained was the only thing she could do to keep Ashlin safe. There was a monstrous woman who wanted to get inside our home and take Ashlin Rose from us, a woman called a Red Priestess, and she had bad magic inside her. I didn't understand at the time, but I realized a little later that my mother had some kind of magic in her too. I do not believe that magic has returned to the realm, despite the magic that was in my mother and the Red Priestess, because my mother is still dead and my sister has not returned. I have never seen or heard from the Red Priestess since she stole my mother from me. I lost hope that Ashlin will ever come back from wherever it is she was sent for safe-keeping.

I _had _lost hope, I should say.

Last night, I had a dream; it was no ordinary dream. I dreamt about my sister, about Ashlin, and not the night terror I've had since I was four of the night she disappeared. This dream was of Ashlin returning to Westeros, and arriving in King's Landing! I would not have believed it, I should not believe it, but when I woke I knew it was not only a dream but a vision of an event that will soon pass. I don't know if a dragon has been born in the Long Winter or if this means magic has returned to the realm, but my long lost baby sister is being returned to me, and that means I have to find a way to get to King's Landing. Grandmother Olenna will not let me go, not now when she's planning on marrying me off to a young man of noble stature on her home island, the Arbor. I know how rare it is for a 'bastard' to marry above her status, and Grandmother expects me to be grateful, but I don't want to marry someone I've never met. Besides, I can't go to the Arbor _now_, I have to get to King's Landing, and I'll never get there if I'm shipped off to the Arbor. I fear for Ashlin's life if I'm not there upon her arrival...

If Grandmother won't let me go, I'll have to run away. I know most of the areas of the Reach, and King's Landing is only a week's ride away, if I can steal a horse. I can't believe I'm even considering running away, or _stealing_ anything, let alone a horse, but I feel I finally have something to live for. All this time, I've been living without purpose, but now I have a sister to find and protect. _I will find her, and I'll do anything to ensure that I do._

-*-*-*-_A-Tale-Of-Magic-And-Monsters-And-Lords-*-*-*-_

**_Storm_**

_Three large eggs, covered in scales; slate gray, jade green, and fiery red...A fire...A girl rises from the ashes, three baby dragons clinging to her body; slate gray, jade green, and fiery red..._

I wake from the dream with a headache that only grows worse as the day goes on. Last night's dream was strange, especially the naked chick with dragons crawling all over her, but it's not the weirdest one of I've ever had. Recently, my dreams have gone from strange to border-line crazy-town. I'm starting to wonder if something is seriously wrong with me. It would be just my luck to make it to sixteen, only to be told three months in that I'm going to die of some rare and tragic dream-brain-disorder. The doctor will say, 'There's hope for your survival, Storm, but we have to find your _real_ parents,' and the search will begin again, but they'll find nothing. My parents are either dead or never wanted me in the first place; nothing else would explain why I was abandoned in the streets of Chicago, Illinois at age three, why I was never reported missing or claimed after all these years.

I think about them all the time; my parents. I wonder if they're out there somewhere, if they think of me, if they're happy…I try and picture a situation where they both loved me so much, and it broke their hearts to give me away, but they had no other choice. My favorite theory is that they were simply too young and were incapable of raising me, that they had no money and no support from their families, so their only option was to let someone else raise me. If that were true though, wouldn't they have contacted me by now? Wouldn't they have tried to reach out, apologize for what was done in the past, and at least check in on me? Wouldn't they want to know that they made the right decision when they left me on the streets? And there goes my favorite theory, right down the toilet, because if they loved me they would never have left me like that; they would have done anything in their power to keep us together as a _family_.

Patricia, the woman who found me thirteen years ago and took me in as her own, says I don't have any parents, because I was 'a gift from the gods'. And she doesn't mean God, as in Jesus' father, creator of the Earth; she's talking Zeus and Athena and Poseidon. Patricia believes I was sent down during the lightning storm, like friggin' Thor, the God of Thunder. She loves telling the story of the night she found me, stating that the night was beautiful and clear, the ideal mid-summer night, and the dark ominous clouds rolled in completely out of nowhere, taking everyone by surprise. The sky darkened in a matter of seconds, the clouds unleashed a mighty rain shower, and then the lightning lit up the sky like the firework finale on the Fourth of July. The roaring rumbles of thunder that followed the lightning were deafening, drowning out all other noises, all but one. Patricia heard a noise that sounded like a baby crying, and she followed her instincts, running down the six flights of stairs of the apartment building she shared with her husband and their young son, and bursting outside into the storm. There I was, she said, lying in the middle of the street, naked as a jaybird, and throwing a fit something awful. Patricia scooped me up quickly, thinking I'd be freezing from the rain, but my skin was hot as fire. She said that my eyes captured sight of hers, seeming to hold knowledge far greater than that of the average toddler, and I gripped her hand with my little one and squeezed, but still I screamed and screamed.

"_You were something special," _Patricia tells me every so often, _"I could just tell. There was a fire in your eyes, and it's never left them. You're something special, Storm, don't you ever forget it. You remember why I called you Storm? You brought that storm here with you the night you were sent to me, a fierce force of nature that kept going strong as long as you screamed and carried on. The moment I got you to stop crying, the rain stopped, the sky cleared, and the sun came out…"_

Patricia's husband Mark doesn't agree with his wife's theory. He thinks my parents must've tossed me out of the moving vehicle as they drove by, thinking the fall or the storm would kill me, but Trish had to step in and 'have a heart'. Mark says it like it was a bad thing, her saving me from imminent danger, like she's some kind of freak for not letting a toddler suffer. He doesn't think I'm anything special. I'm just an unwanted nobody who has burdened his family with my presence. I live in their home, eat their food, waste their time and money, and I'm not even their blood-born child. My real parents didn't want me, Mark says, and he doesn't want me either.

It should bother me, the way Mark treats me, but it doesn't. Sometimes I agree with him; I am an unnecessary burden to their family, and they didn't _have _to take me in or adopt me. But that is also where I _dis_agree with Mark; if he didn't want me in the first place, then why did he go through with the adoption? They already had Ricky to feed and clothe and care for, so why adopt a little girl that Mark never truly wanted? There are days when I think Patricia deserves so much better than Mark, that she should divorce him and find someone who appreciates her, but I can see that she loves Mark. Patricia loves Mark with all her heart, and if I weren't around they probably wouldn't fight or argue half as much as they do now. I'm not something special. I'm a burden, a piece of life that is endured and not enjoyed, and I need to stop pretending there's anything _special_ about that.

The only place I feel even remotely like a normal sixteen-year-old girl is at school, which is where I should be right now. No one at school knows the dark secrets of my past; they just know me as Storm, or Stormy, Parker. The kids in my class know I'm adopted, but they don't ask why or how. That's just the way it is. They don't know that Patricia loves me, but Mark and Ricky alienate me as much as possible. My classmates know that I'm terrible at math, but excellent in English, and I have a strong interest in History. They know my best friends are Corrine and Holly, and my boyfriend is Trey, who most think is reckless bad boy, but I think he's spontaneous and exciting. Even Trey doesn't know much about my home life, though. I like things that way. I need to keep my home life and my school life separate, otherwise everything will fall apart.

Like I said, I should be in school right now, but I'm not. That headache I woke with has gotten so bad I can't turn my neck left or right without daggers of pain slicing through my head and neck. I've never experienced such a strong headache, and I wonder if maybe it's escalated to a full-blown migraine. I can't keep my eyes open, the light is too strong, and even the slightest movement has me moaning in pain. I am thankful to have the house to myself, since Patricia and Mark are at work and Ricky has left for school, so I won't have to explain why I'm still in bed. I'd like to take something for this headache, but I think if I make a move to get out of bed, I might just toss my cookies. So…sleep it is, then.

_Snow falls all around, thick flakes flying in all directions, dizzying and mesmerizing at the same time…It must be a blizzard; there is so much snow that visibility is virtually nonexistent…I can hear the wind, howling in the distance…Then, snow crunching beneath strong, sure feet…I blink up at the sky, only now realizing that I am not standing, but laying in the snow…Suddenly I see two red eyes looking down at me, belonging to a huge white wolf…Behind the wolf, standing still as stone, is the dark-haired man…_

I sit up in bed with a gasp, so startled to have been ripped from my dream without warning. Immediately, my hands are clutching at my forehead in an attempt to soothe the pain pounding in my head. It feels like a thousand flies are buzzing around inside my brain, slamming into my skull and trying to break free. The pain is so intense that my most recent dream is soon forgotten. I whimper as the ache seems to intensify even more, squeezing my eyes shut and holding in the tears that threaten to fall. Blindly, I stumble out of bed and towards the bathroom, not caring if the movement does make me vomit, because I have got to take something for this headache. I pull open the medicine cabinet and reach for the strongest pain killer we've got, my fingers fumbling with the child-proof mechanism to get the darn thing open. I pour three little pills into the palm of my hand and toss them straight into my mouth, sticking my head in the sink for a mouthful of water to swallow them. I sink to the ground in relief, curling my body up tightly and cradling my head in my hands while I wait for the medication to kick in.

Not even five minutes later, my stomach turns over, and I am bracing my body over the toilet as I empty the contents of my stomach, which didn't have much in it since I skipped breakfast this morning. I'm most disappointed that I threw up the pain killers. How much did my body absorb before they were expelled? Do I take more? Before I can think of an answer, a shooting pain rips through me, starting at the top of my head and ending at the bottom of my feet. It was almost like an electric shock, paralyzing as it struck and leaving my body feeling tingly and numb. The pain passes and my body starts to shake, violently and uncontrollably. I briefly wonder if I'm having a seizure, but another shock tears through my body, this one ten times stronger than the first, and I can't help the agonizing scream that passes my lips. I'm crying now, my body lying flat on the tiled floor of the bathroom, even my head, and I don't care at all that Ricky or Mark have probably pissed on the floor in this very spot…

_I'm dying, _I think to myself, _this is it; I'm going to die. I'm nothing special. I'm not a gift from the gods. I'm not a fierce force of nature. I'm a weak, freak of a girl, who is going to die of shock-like seizures on the gross bathroom floor of my adoptive parents' home. I'm going to die._

The pain is everywhere now. My skin hurts, my muscles, my bones; it feels like I'm being burned alive while also having every bone in my body broken and shattered. My ears are ringing, but that might be from my ear-piercing screams, and tears are leaking from my eyes and down my cheeks and dripping onto the floor. The floor, which is shaking like an earthquake is happening, suddenly gives away and I feel myself falling…

I'm falling…falling fast through the dark nothingness…_Am I already dead? Is this what happens when you die? You spend eternity floating through darkness? Or have I been so terrible of a person that I'm being condemned to an eternity in Hell, and this is only the beginning of my sufferings?_

When I hit the ground, I expect it to be a hard landing, but it is so soft and gentle that I don't believe I fell for quite as long as it seemed. The ground is soft, but cold, so very cold, and when I finally open my eyes I can see that I'm lying in the snow. _The snow! _It is falling fast all around me, covering the surrounding area in a blanket of thick, fresh snow. I sit up to get a better look around, and it is only then that I realize I am completely naked; lying in the snow in a foreign place in my birthday suit. _Perfect. _

Quiet footsteps crunching through the snow captures my attention, and I quickly curl up in a more protective stance, covering my exposed bits from whoever is sneaking up on me. It seems there are multiple footsteps, all growing closer from different directions. I'm being surrounded…but why? By whom? There's nowhere for me to run to, nowhere to hide, so I simply wait, and hope that whoever it is will be a help and not a hindrance.

In front of me, a wolf appears; a big white wolf with blood red eyes. My eyes widen in recognition as it seems this is the wolf from my dreams. I've seen this wolf countless times in the past three months while I've been asleep, and always close-by was the dark, curly-haired man with the sad eyes and the fur cloak…

As the wolf steps closer, I suck in my breath and hold it, feeling vulnerable and scared. I look over the wolf's shoulder when I see something black moving through the snow behind him. It is a man, of that I am sure, but I can't make out any other details about him as the snowstorm is raging making everything hard to see. He stops just behind the white wolf, and by some form of a miracle the snow lessens in its fall long enough for me to get a good look at his face.

_It's him! It's the man from my dream…the one who's been haunting my dreams for months now!_

What happens next, I'm not too proud of, but I had no control over it. My breath catches in my throat, my eyes roll back in my head, and I pass out.

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**A/N: Thanks again for reading! Please review if you like it and you want me to continue:) I am completely ready to keep writing this story, but I need to know that I'm going to have readers, so for that I need your feedback. Please be awesome and let me know what you think:)**

**Question: Would you like to read pieces in Jon's POV and Robb's POV also, or just Mari and Storm (Ashlin - if you didn't already pick up on that...)? **

**-MissCarolineForbes**


	2. Chapter 2 When Magic Returns to Westeros

**Thanks so much for checking out this story! Thanks to the three of you who reviewed my first chapter, it means a lot to me! :)**

**A Few Quick Author's Notes: **

**1. Just so everyone is on the same page, Mari's name is pronounced 'MAH-REE' not 'marry'. **

**2. A reviewer asked if this story starts at the beginning of Season 1, and the answer is no, it starts in the middle-to-end of Season 1. This chapter will help you better place the timing of this story against the show. ALSO: Because part of the key in Ashlin's return to Westeros is the birth of the dragons, Daenerys' scenes are ahead of the rest of Westeros. I.E. Her dragons have been born at this point, before King Robert is dead. I hope that isn't confusing, but if it is and you have questions just ask and I will answer them :)**

**3. The long segments in italics are dream sequences. **

**That's all! Thanks again for reading and I really hope you like the story. Please follow me and review! :)**

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**A Tale of Magic and Monsters and Lords **

**Chapter 2. When Magic Returns to Westeros**

_**Storm **_

_The sky above is clear and blue, and a beautiful bird with bright orange feathers soars in circles as I watch…Suddenly, the bird changes direction, it's happy flight now seems frantic and frightened…it opens it's mouth, but instead of a bird-song, a girl's scream spills out… _

_I struggle to see what has made the bird so scared, but I am held tightly in place by an unknown force…I hear the sound of metal scraping…I hear a boy's voice, "Bring me his head." …I hear the scream of the bird and the slice of the sword, followed by a dull __**thump! **_

_I blink and the scene has changed; I am standing alone in a field filled with thousands of corpses. They aren't the corpses of men, though. They are the corpses of wolves…lions…stags…There are so many, piled on top of each other, spread across miles of blood-stained fields, as far as the eye can see…Death. _

_I blink again, and the field is empty…A single flower rests at my feet; an Iris…It starts to grow…bigger and bigger…and now it is as tall as me. The petals slowly unfold, revealing a girl in her late teens. The girl drops to the ground and lands gracefully on her feet, her long hair cascading down her shoulders in waves of dark auburn. Her honey brown eyes look into mine, and she smiles… _

"_When a dragon is born during the Long Winter, and magic returns to the realm, she will come back to us," The Flower Girl tells me. She opens her mouth and repeats it again, and again, and again, until the words are spinning around in my head and each time they make less sense than they did the first… _

_When a dragon is born during the Long Winter…and magic returns to the realm…__**she**__ will come back to us…Who's she? Who's 'us'? What is a Long Winter? I don't understand… _

When I wake, I'm in bed and the room is completely dark. At first, I wonder how it got to be so dark, when I only just woke up a few hours ago…but then I realize this bed is bigger than my usual bed, and it is layered with blankets made of thick, warm animal fur. In fact, it is so warm, my body is slick with sweat and I'm very uncomfortable. I kick and shove at the heavy covers until I've freed my body from their hold, and I sit up. My eyes slowly start to adjust, and I see that it is not quite as dark as I initially thought. There is a small fire burning in a fireplace located across the spacious room, in front of the bed. The flames are low, just embers, like it hasn't been tended to for a while. From what I can tell, the walls of this room are made of stone, as is the floor, and it is so large that all areas surrounding the bed are simply shadows. It frightens me a little, to be all alone in an unknown place.

_Where am I? _

A shuffling in the shadows to my left has me clutching at the blankets in fear, and I can barely force out a shaky greeting to my intruder. "H-hello?"

"Aha, you have awoken," A gentle and kind voice returns, and the oldest-looking man I've ever seen hobbles into the light of the fire, his wrinkled face bearing a smile. His gentle voice and demeanor put me at ease, and I release the blanket-shield I was holding in front of my body. "How do you feel, my dear?" His eyebrows are furrowed with concern, but his eyes aren't actually looking at me, and after observing him make his way towards the bed and my side, I realize that he is blind.

I sit up and slide backwards until my back is leaning against the pillows and the wooden headboard of the large bed. I am not naked as I was when I dropped into the snow from the sky, but dressed in a long, loose-fitting white nightgown. I wonder if this blind old man dressed me, but I can't imagine how he did so without help. Pushing those thoughts aside, I try and assess my body so that I can answer the man's question._ How do I feel? _Honestly, I feel fine. I feel better than fine, actually. My headache is gone, and there are no traces of lingering aches and pains. I can't explain how or what caused that affliction, but I am sure glad it is gone.

After what feels like forever, I reply, "I feel fine, thank you."

Shuffling closer, the old man's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "Really? You were burning up with a fever when the boys brought you to me last night. Let me see…" He perches on the edge of the bed and reaches for me, somehow finding my head straight away. He places his hands on my forehead and makes a hissing noise with his tongue. He pulls away his hands quickly, almost like I burned him. "Still feverish, I see. Hmm…Here, I brought you some water. You should drink." He reaches for a metal cup which was resting on the small table beside the bed, and he places it into my hands. "You are lucky to be alive, young lady."

I gratefully gulp down the water, only to choke and spit it back into the cup. It tastes horrible! I thought he said he gave me water, but that tasted like a mug full of piss…I put the cup back down on the table and resist the urge to gag. After a moment to compose myself, I wonder, "Thank you…for taking care of me. I'm sorry if this question is strange, but…where am I?"

"You're at Castle Black," He replies, standing firmly on his feet so that he may give me a slight bow as he continues, "I am the Maester here; you may call me Aemon."

"Aemon," I repeat, the name sounding strange and foreign in my mouth. "I'm Storm…Storm Parker." The old man looks as confused by my name as I am by his. "Where exactly is Castle Black?" Noting his accent, I question further, "Is it in England?" _How the Hell did I get here? _

"England?" Maester Aemon says the word as though he's never heard it before, which makes no sense to me. Even if we're in another country in Europe, he has to at least _know_ of England, and he looks as though he's never heard of the country in his life. "No, no, my dear, you are in North Westeros, at the Wall." He states it simply, even shrugs his shoulders, like it is clear as day.

I can tell we're not going to get much further on this topic. He doesn't know what England is, and I have no idea what 'the Wall' is, so…what does that mean? My head is spinning. The only way for this old man, who must be at least ninety, to not know where England is would be for him to be suffering from severe Alzheimer's, or…or else he's from a different _world_. But he can't be from a different world. That's impossible. Almost as impossible as me falling through the floor of Patricia and Mark's bathroom...and landing in the snow in a foreign land.

My silence must be troubling, for old man Aemon is leaning over me and quizzing, "Are you sure you're well, Miss Storm? I think the fever has plagued you with hallucinations. How long have you been ill?"

"I'm not sick," I state firmly, "Truly, Mr. Aemon; I'm fine."

I place my hand over his and squeeze gently, attempting to prove to this stubborn old man that I am, in fact, well. Something strange happens when I touch him, though. I feel a heat rushing from my head down my neck and arm, all the way to my hand, and it shoots through my fingertips and into Maester Aemon. His arm jerks as the heat is passed along to him, and he gasps in shock, his mouth remaining open and showing his surprise. At first, I'm scared that whatever just happened gave him such a fright he's gone into cardiac arrest, but then Maester Aemon smiles. He blinks slowly and I watch as the milky white blindness erases from his eyes. He rubs at them in disbelief, blinking rapidly. He stares all around the room, at every corner, and then his wise blue eyes settle on me; his eyes which can now see settle on me.

Aemon's hands come down on my shoulders and he stares upon my face like I am a miracle-worker. "What did you do, girl?" His voice is hushed, carrying a secret he's almost too hopeful to wish for.

I gulp nervously, my hands shaky. "I-I," I stutter, shaking my head rapidly back and forth, "I d-don't know. I don't know. Please, I don't know how that happened."

_I made a blind man see. I think, the thought sounding crazy even inside of my head. I made a blind man see. I touched a blind man…and I made him see. _

"You have a gift," Aemon states firmly, nodding his head, his smile growing, "You have a gift, Storm Parker. Yes, you do. Ah, I knew you were special when you were brought here; I knew you were special." He steps away from the bed and practically skips towards the wooden door.

"Wait!" I call after him, halting him in his progress. He turns back towards me, and I ask the first thing that comes to mind, "Where is the man who found me? The one with the white wolf?"

_-*-*-*-A-Tale-Of-Magic-And-Monsters-And-Lords-*-*- *- _

_**Mari**_

"Please, good ser, I must see my sister," I beg the knight standing guard at the gate, nearly in tears, forgetting all about my plan to bat my eyelashes and charm my way into the Red Keep. It is too late now for me to try and use my pretty face; it isn't so pretty when my face is splotchy and my nose red from suppressing tears. Pressing on, I feed him a small lie and hope that he buys it, "She works in the kitchen as a scullery maid, ser, and I have urgent news. Our father is ill, and he will pass soon; I must bring her to him."

I had thought it would take only a week to travel from Highgarden to King's Landing, but unfortunately I ran into problems and it took double the amount of time. By the time I arrived outside the gates to the city, I was very dehydrated and had long since run out of food. I had to sell the horse I stole for my journey, at a very unreasonable price too, simply to buy food and water so I would not become ill or worse, _die_. I traded one of my dresses, a pretty pale blue with lace trim, for a plainer and more practical brown shift, so I will fit in as one of the commoners living within the city gates of King's Landing. After that, I passed through the King's Gate with no problems. It took me all morning and most of the afternoon to walk from the King's Gate to the gates of the Red Keep, and now that I've finally reached my destination it seems I will not be granted entrance. I saw my sister within the castle walls in my dream, though, and I won't turn around now that I am so close…

"What is your sister's name?" The armored knight asks gruffly. It might not seem like progress, but I've been pleading with him to listen to me and had no response until now. I am hopeful that he will allow me in, now that I've got him talking.

Quickly, I think of a common name and reply, "Pippa, ser. Pippa Longley."

"I know of no scullery maid with that name," The knight comments sternly, "Now, off you go, girl." He shoos me away from his post with a wave of his hand, but I am not so easy to be rid of.

"Please, ser," I insist, "My sister is in there, and I must see her. Perhaps you have forgotten about her? She is a quiet, small thing…"

"Or perhaps," The knight interrupts rudely, "You are a liar."

My shoulders sink in defeat, and the knight notices, a crooked, rotten toothed smile appearing on his face. I drop my gaze to his dirty boots, and then snap them back up to his face again. "I have some coin," I suddenly remember, feeling under the folds of my common dress for my coin purse. "It isn't much," I warn, hoping he'll be desperate enough to take the bait, "But if you let me in to see my sister, I'll give you all of it." I open the small coin purse and flash him the currency inside. I don't know how I'll eat later, or how I'll get Ashlin and myself home without money, but we'll figure something out. As long as I find her, everything will be fine.

Scoffing, the knight slaps my hand away, causing the coins to fly from the purse and clatter to the stone stairs below our feet, most rolling all the way down the stairs and disappearing into the dirt. I stare, open-mouthed, at the knight in shock as he reprimands, "You'll not be bribing your way into this castle, stupid girl. Not on my watch. Now, get lost before I toss you down the stairs as well." He gives my shoulder a shove and I stumble backwards, nearly losing my balance and tumbling down the stone stairs that lead up to one set of the castle gates.

Shakily, I bend to retrieve three silver coins that fell from my purse, a lone tear leaking from my eye and trailing down my cheek. I don't bother to wipe it away; let the awful knight see that he made a girl cry, what do I care? I sigh as I start down the stairs, my mind already working to figure out how I'll eat tonight, where I'll stay, and what I'll have to do to get to Ashlin.

At the bottom of the stairs, a man stretches his arm out in front of me, holding the remaining four coins from my purse in the open-palm of his rough and calloused hand. "I believe these are yours," He states, waiting patiently for me to take them.

I blink in surprise, looking up at the stranger who has chosen to show me kindness instead of pocketing my coins for himself. I find myself staring into eyes that are a smoky grey in color, and although I can see why some might think them cold eyes, I can see warmth in them now. His dark hair falls to his shoulders, somewhat thick and unruly, but his graying beard is trimmed and neat. His face is hard and holds the lines of a man whose life has been tough and stressful, but right now he holds a look of softness, of concern. I don't realize at first that he is flanked by three personal guards, and pinned to his vest sits the mark of the Hand, but I know immediately who he is.

I straighten up quickly and curtsy respectfully, greeting, "Lord Stark!" I bow my head as I come up from the curtsy, and then finally take the money from his hand. "Thank you, my lord. You did not have to bother yourself with that."

"It was no trouble at all, Miss…" He replies, prompting me for my name.

The knight I attempted to bribe is still within earshot, and even though I know it is wrong to lie to a lord, I assume it is all right to do because my everyday name is already a false one. "I am Mari Longley, my lord." I cannot meet his eyes, but I hope that he accepts the name as truth and continues on his way.

"Was Ser Devon giving you trouble, Miss Longley?" Lord Stark asks curiously, while his guards wait patiently behind him.

I glance to the knight standing guard at the castle gate and then return my eyes to Lord Stark. I didn't miss the threatening glare from the knight, but I decide I will be truthful this time. "N-no, Lord Stark. He was only doing what he's told, I'm sure. I am looking for my sister; she's in the castle, and I have urgent news, but I am not allowed in."

Eddard Stark studies me for a long while, so long that I start to feel uncomfortable beneath his scrutinizing grey eyes. Finally, he shares his thoughts with me, "I would like to hear about your sister, and the urgent matter for which you seek her. Come with me, Mari; I will see what I can do."

_-*-*-*-A-Tale-Of-Magic-And-Monsters-And-Lords-*-*- *- _

_**Storm **_

_Jon Snow_. I picture his face in my mind as I repeat his name in my head._ His name is Jon Snow. _It is strange to put a name to the face after all these months. I suppose there are stranger things, such as where I am and how I got here, but I am trying to focus on one thing at a time. I don't know how I got here, but I'm here, and there must be a connection between my appearing in this place and Jon Snow. Otherwise, why did I dream of him for three months?

Maester Aemon left and promised to return with the Lord Commander, Joer Mormont, who is the leader of the Night's Watch. According to Maester Aemon, the Night's Watch rule over Castle Black and the Wall, and protect everyone south of the Wall by keeping everything to the north in the north. I don't understand one bit, but it was nice of old man Aemon to try and fill me in on my whereabouts and how things work around here. Aemon was also supposed to bring Jon Snow to me, so I could thank him, and so that I can get another look at him and _know_ that he's real, that my mind isn't playing tricks on me. Aemon has not returned though, and it has been hours. It has been hours and hours. In fact, it's been so long that I'm almost positive it's nearly dinnertime. I ate a small bowl of mush a fat boy named Sam claimed to be porridge, and a sweet brown bread, which was actually not bad, this morning right after the sun came up. Sam didn't stay long, and he didn't say anything more than a stuttered hello, introduction, and then he excused himself. No one else has come to my room since Sam, and it's been a very long, lonely, and boring day. Now, the sun is lowering in the sky, causing the room to be shadowed in darkness, and I'm beginning to feel hungry again.

When I can't take it any longer, I climb out of bed and search for warmer clothes, because I know I can't leave the room in nothing but this thin nightgown. With all this snow and cold, maybe I should have asked if we're in Alaska…or northern Canada, or something. Do they have a Wall up there? Maybe somewhere in Russia does? Could it be that I…no, no; none of that makes any sense! Without any luck finding other clothes, I grab the top blanket from my bed, a fluffy thing made of some kind of animal fur, and wrap it around my shoulders tightly, holding it to me close as I open the door. I peek my head out into the hallway, or...corridor, I guess, and look left to right; there is no one in sight. I listen carefully and judge that most of the noise is coming from the right, so I'll have a better chance running into Maester Aemon, or someone else who can feed me, if I head in that direction.

I follow the voices to the end of the corridor, down a long spiral staircase, and through the large open doors of what appears to be a dining hall. There are at least a hundred men in the room, ranging from early teens to middle-aged men. They are talking loudly amongst each other, but a hush falls over the room when they notice me in the doorway. I halt in my tracks, resisting the urge to run away and hide, but am unable to walk any further into the room. With the way these men are staring, you'd think they haven't seen a girl in their life...

"Storm Parker, I presume," A deep voice booms from across the entire dining hall, and my eyes immediately find the snow-haired man it belongs to. He stands from the table at the head of the room and announces, "I am Jeor Mormont, Commander of the Night's Watch. I have been meaning to come by your room to introduce myself. I've heard some..._things_ about you from Maester Aemon that I'd like to discuss with you." I don't see Aemon, but I assume by _things_ Jeor Mormont means my ability to miraculously heal Aemon of his blindness. I shuffle in my space while Jeor looks me over. "First though, how are you feeling? You must be famished."

"I..." I glance around nervously before nodding, "I am hungry, yes."

"I'll have some supper brought up to your room," Jeor replies. "You should be in bed; the Maester says you are running a fever. Do you need assistance getting back to your quarters?"

I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I admit, "I guess so..." I am beginning to regret coming down here in the first place. I should have waited for Aemon to return. Now I have all these eyes on me while I stand in a dining hall full of men in a thin nightgown covered with a blanket, and it is uncomfortable, to say the least. All I wanted was to get some food, and meet Jon Snow, but I don't see him anywhere.

"Shaene," Jeor Mormont addresses a man at his table, "Please help Storm back to her room." Jeor then returns to his meal, although his suspicious blue eyes never stray from my face, until Shaene rises from his seat and leads me out of the dining hall.

Shaene is a tall and thin, but broad-shouldered, man with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He appears to be in his late-thirties but the hardness in his face and eyes makes him look older. He doesn't smile nor say anything in greetings as he passes by me, simply strides quickly down the hallway at a pace I am nearly jogging to keep up with.

Finally, Shaene says to me accusingly, "You're from beyond the Wall?"

"No..." I reply slowly, getting the feeling that if I _were_ from beyond the Wall, I would not be quite so welcome in Castle Black as I am now. "I'm from Chicago. Illinois."

"Huh?" Shaene squints at me over his shoulder.

"It's in the U.S." I elaborate nervously, wondering if Shaene will deduct I'm a complete crazy person and throw me in the dungeon. If this place has a dungeon...I imagine it does because it's a huge castle, and castles usually have things like that. _Right?_

"Essos?" Shaene mispronounces. "How did you cross the Narrow Sea?"

_Essos? Narrow Sea? What?_

"Yes...Essos," I nod, deciding to go along with his answer. At least it's something he's heard of, and he won't accuse me of making things up...even though I am making things up. "I came on a boat, with my family, but...we got separated. I don't remember what happened."

"You were attacked," He concludes flatly, seeming uninterested now with my answers.

"I don't know," I say, "Maybe."

"You were lucky," He states, "That you were found on this side of the Wall. And not the other."

"What is the Wall?" I inquire, "Can you show me?"

It is clear to me that I have surprised my guide, and he doesn't give me a direct answer, but I think we've changed direction. My thoughts are proven correct only a minute later, when instead of heading up the spiral staircase I came down, Shaene leads me to a door. When he opens it, a gust of wind carrying a flurry of snowflakes rushes in. He motions for me to step out first, and when I do I gasp at the sight before me. Beyond the Castle Black is an epic and mighty structure that I know without asking is the Wall. I am so awed that I forget to keep hold of the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, and it slips to the snowy ground.

"Are you crazy?" Shaene queries as he stoops to fetch the blanket for me. "You'll catch your death!" As he enfolds me in the warm fur once more, his hand brushes against mine, and a strange picture plants itself in my mind: a much younger Shaene, holding a tiny baby girl in his arms, and smiling.

I pull away, mumbling, "Sorry," as I do. But I am not sorry for dropping my blanket, I am sorry for what I saw. It was an image of Shaene's past, a personal image, and I doubt he'd like it if he knew I had seen it. I can't help but wonder if that baby was Shaene's, and if so, what happened to it? Is it why he's here now? Is it why he's so sad?

"Come now," Shaene instructs, "You've seen the Wall, let's get you back to your room. I expect your supper will be waiting for you. Wouldn't want it to get cold; doesn't take long in this place."

Upstairs, Shaene locates my bedroom with no problem at all. My supper is waiting on a silver tray, just as Shaene said it would be, and I immediately dig in. I don't care at all that this brown stew tastes strange and the bread with it is stale, I am starving, and anything would taste good right now. Shaene excuses himself while I eat, but I find my thoughts are still on him and his smile as he gazed down upon the baby in his arms. I feel an ache in my heart for him and his loss, because somehow I know that baby was lost to him.

Some time after I finished eating, there is a knock on the door. It must be Jeor Mormont. "Come in," I call out. When the door opens, I see that it is Aemon, and not Jeor, as I thought. "Aemon," I greet the old man with a smile, "Where did you disappear to earlier? I thought you were coming back, and you never did."

"I am sorry, my dear," Aemon apologizes shamefully, "This place has been a mad house today. You would not believe what happened here last night, but it is not a story I should be telling young ladies such as yourself. There is no need to frighten you, you are safe here with the Night's Watch." I don't know what he's blabbering on about, but his next words have my attention: "I brought a guest to visit with you..."

* * *

**Sorry to leave you guys on a semi-cliff-hanger...Next chapter will start off in Jon's POV though, so hopefully that will keep some of you happy(:**

**Reviews feed my brain, so please don't make it go hungry.**

**-MissCarolineForbes**


	3. Chapter 3 Thorns, Kings, and Other

**A Tale of Magic and Monsters and Lords **

**Chapter 3. Thorns, Kings, and Other Corrupt Things**

_**Storm**_

When Maester Aemon announced he brought a visitor, I thought it was safe to assume the man entering the room next would be Jon Snow, but I was mistaken. The tall man uniformed in all black that enters my temporary bedroom is much older than Jon, with graying blonde curls, tired blue eyes, and a face that is chapped due to the raw weather. He carries himself like a man with authority, no smile gracing his features, and when his eyes focus on mine they hold a strong suspicion, like the look on Lord Commander Mormont's face when he saw me not too long ago in the dining hall. I don't understand why these grown men are so wary and suspicious of a sixteen-year-old girl, but if I had one guess I'd say it has to do with me curing Aemon of his blindness; as harmless an act as it may seem to me, since I didn't know I could do such a thing, I suppose it is reason to be a little bit suspicious of my behavior.

"Hello," I greet politely, since my guest seems only to be capable of staring at the moment.

He grunts in response, staring some more, before finally introducing himself as, "Alliser Thorne, Master-at-Arms here at Castle Black."

Aemon, who I nearly forgot was in the room since he's been so quiet, pipes up, "Thorne here is also the trainer of the new recruits; future Brothers of the Night's Watch."

Alliser nods in confirmation of Aemon's addition. "That I am." Swiftly, he changes to a new topic; me. "It was one of my groups of recruits that found you out in the snow last night. One of them spotted you while on watch duty." Mumbling, he adds bitterly, "Shows how much he's been learning during training though, since he should have had his eyes _north_ and not _south_ of the Wall…"

"I'd say it was lucky he looked to the south," Aemon says approvingly, "and saved this lovely lady's life. I'd also say it shows he was doing an excellent job guarding the Wall, Alliser; he was not only watching but _aware_ of his surroundings."

While Alliser ponders Aemon's observation, Aemon clucks his tongue at me disapprovingly and orders me to get back in bed before my toes freeze off. He thinks it was very stupid of me to leave the room without proper clothing, and makes me promise not to do it again. He wraps my legs tightly with layers of thick, warm animal furs before he checks my head for a fever. He seems worried at how hot and clammy my head is still, but I insist I feel fine. I don't feel as though I've got a fever at all, so I don't understand why he's so worried. Still, Aemon will not let it go, and he announces to Alliser Thorne and me that he has to gather more wood for my fireplace, and he'll return in a few minutes.

After he's gone, Alliser strides closer to my bedside, hands folded behind his back in a stern stance. With Aemon in the room, he seemed hesitant to speak with me, but now that Aemon has left, he has no problem demanding answers to questions I'm sure he's had for me all day. First he asks, "What brings you to the Wall, Storm Parker? How did you come to be so far north unaccompanied?"

"I…" I swallow nervously, wracking my brain for an acceptable response. Then I remember that I've already started forming a back-story for myself, after Shaene questioned me about where I am from. "I am from Essos. I came over on a boat with my family, but we were attacked, and I don't know what happened to them. I woke up here and…that's all I know."

"That's all you know," Alliser repeats skeptically. He doesn't accept my answers quite so easily as Shaene did. "Your name is unfamiliar to me, Storm. I have never heard of the name 'Parker'; is it common in Essos? What part of Essos did you say you were from again? I am also unfamiliar with your accent, so forgive me for being so curious." He smiles for the first time, but it is a smirk more than it is a smile, and it does nothing to ease my sudden nervousness at being alone with this man.

"Illinois," I reply idiotically, "It's in the northern part of Essos, very small…I suppose Parker is a common name there…" I trail off, hoping my answers are sufficient enough for Master-at-Arms Alliser Thorne. I don't like the vibe he's giving off, and I'd like for him to leave now, but I don't know how to say so. I hope Aemon will be back with firewood soon.

"And what business does your family have in Westeros?" Alliser presses, his questions more personal now, and I wonder if it's because he doesn't believe a word coming out of my mouth. He's trying to catch me in a lie, and…what happens if he does? Will I be punished? Will I be put in the dungeons? Will they send me out into the snow to die? I have no idea what to expect from these Brothers of the Night's Watch, and I'm starting to realize what an awful predicament I've found myself in. "It is not often a family crosses the Narrow Sea simply for pleasure. Are you of noble status in Illinois? Is your father the Lord there?"

I contemplate lying and saying 'yes, my father is the Lord of Illinois', but I don't know enough about this place and time to adequately answer all of his questions. I might be interested in history, but I learned about U.S. History and _World_ History, not wherever-the-Hell-this-is History. With a frown on my face, I let Alliser Thorne know that I find him nosy and rude. "Why is it that you are treating me like a criminal? I've done nothing wrong. I never asked for your help. I simply woke up here, in a strange place I've never been before, _all alone_. As Aemon already pointed out, I am running a fever and I need my rest, so if you are quite finished, I'd appreciate it if you left now."

The look on Alliser's face is almost comical for a second, his blue eyes bugging out of his head in shock, but it is quickly replaced by a look of disdain. Maybe I shouldn't have opened my mouth and spoke so freely, but I couldn't stand the one-man interrogation he had going. Alliser composes himself enough to angrily spit out, "You may or may not be a criminal, Miss Storm, but you should be aware that you are currently residing in a castle _full_ of criminals. Don't you know what the Night's Watch is made of?" He pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, before he answers his own question, "Outlaws. Murderers, rapists, and thieves. You are no safer here than you are out there in the cold, _alone_. I do not know who you are or where you came from, but you should leave here, while you still can."

I'm not sure if that was a threat, but it felt like one. I guess Alliser didn't believe my story of lies as much as I thought he did. Is it true that the Night's Watch is made up of murderers and rapists, though? Aemon said I would be safe, that the Night's Watch would protect me, but how can I be safe with a castle full of criminals? Maybe Alliser is trying to scare me, and it's not really true at all, but either way he got what he wanted, because I am terrified and I don't want to be here anymore.

_-*-*-*-A-Tale-Of-Magic-And-Monsters-And-Lords-*-*- *- _

_**Jon Snow **_

Pyp and I were relieved of watch duty by Grenn and Rast, both of them bragging about catching a glimpse of the mysterious girl who was found last night. Apparently, her name is Storm Parker, and she swept into the dining hall in only a nightgown and a blanket while everyone was supping. I ignored Rast's disgusting comments on her state of dress, thinking back on how she was wearing nothing at all when Ghost and I stumbled upon her. When she fainted, I took off my cloak and covered her with it, and that's when Sam and Pyp caught up with me. I carried her inside while Pyp ran ahead to call for Maester Aemon, and then I left her with him. Grenn said he heard some of the men talk of Maester Aemon regaining sight early this morning, that it had something to do with the girl Storm, but I didn't believe it. As Pyp and I made our way inside the castle to sup though, we ran into the very man we were speaking of, and the rumors were proved true when he waved to us both and greeted us by name with a smile.

"Jon Snow," Maester Aemon says pointedly, "You are the very man I was looking for. Do you have a moment? Could you take a walk with me?"

I am tired, my muscles are aching, and my stomach is rumbling for food, but blind old Maester Aemon can _see_ and I'd like to know why. "Of course."

"Goodnight to you both then," Pyp continues towards the doors of the kitchen, "And good to see you...seeing again, Aemon."

"It is good to see again, Pypar," the Maester agrees, another smile gracing his aged face. "Come Jon, help me fetch a bit of wood for the young lady's chamber. She's burning up with fever, but the silly bird left her bed, said she was _hungry_." He chuckles before adding, "She wants to see you. But first, she needs a warm fire lit by her bed so we can get rid of this fever."

My eyes widen in surprise, "Did she say that?" He nods, and I wonder, "Why?"

"She only remembers seeing you and your wolf," Aemon theorizes, "She may want to thank you for coming to her aid." As we've reached the wood pile, Aemon picks up a few pieces, and I load up my arms with as many as I can carry back upstairs. As we walk, Maester Aemon continues to talk, "Her name is Storm, and she...is not from around here. She's different, _special_..."

"Is it true then?" I venture to ask, "Did she make it so you're able to see again?"

"She did, Jon Snow," Aemon says seriously as he looks me in the eyes, pausing his steps as we are just down the hall now from her chambers, "As I said, she is special. She touched my arm, and I felt a powerful heat travel into my body from her touch; the heat spread to my head and filled my eyes, and I slowly began to regain my sight. It is good that you found her, Jon; I think both of us are aware there are plenty of men who would not have been as noble as you were in discovering a beautiful young lady in such a...position as the one she was discovered in. I trust you will look out for her? I know that may be asking a lot, what with your training coming to an end and you taking the Black very soon, but...she will need someone like yourself keeping eyes on her in a place like this. Of course, now that I am able, I will have my eyes on her as well. And Samwell Tarly seems to like her quite a bit as well, although the boy was nothing but a stuttering mess when he saw her this morning..." Aemon finally takes a breath, looking to me for a response to his request.

It won't be easy, not with my schedule as it is, but I can't deny that Maester Aemon is correct. There are few good men at the Wall, not like it used to be, so I'm told. "I will do my best to keep her safe," I promise the Maester earnestly.

"That's all I ask," Aemon smiles, continuing towards Storm's bed chambers. "Now, let's get this fire started."

I am surprised, when Maester Aemon opens the door, that I hear Alliser Thorne's voice from inside, and he isn't speaking very kindly. In fact, it almost sounds like he's threatening the young lady sitting in bed. "...no safer here than you were out there in the cold, _alone._ I do not know who you are or where you came from, but you should leave here, while you still can."

"Is that any way to speak to a lady?" Maester Aemon accuses as he strides into the room, tossing his two small logs down on the stone floor by the fireplace for dramatic effect. "Did I hear correct, Alliser Thorne, did you threaten the girl? If you did, I'll have to inform the Lord Commander of your behavior towards our guest." Without saying another word, Thorne storms out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Aemon makes his way to Storm's side as fast as his old body can carry him, asking with concern, "What did he say to you, my dear?"

"I don't know," Storm says, her accent unlike any I've ever heard before. Her face is downcast, shadowed by waves of honey brown hair. "This is all a mess, a big, _big _mess. I don't know..." She looks up suddenly, only just noticing another person in the room besides Maester Aemon, and her eyes land on me. Her eyes, the same honey brown color as her hair, widen slightly and a wisp of a smile appears on her pale pink lips. "Jon," She says happily, my name falling from her lips in such a familiar way, I almost wonder if I met her before. "I was starting to think I made you up..." We haven't met, though, I'm sure I'd remember someone as different as her.

I don't know what to say to a thing like that, but I open my mouth and somehow ask, "You know my name?" I realize how stupid that sounds in hind-sight, but it is too late to take it back.

"Aemon told me," She replies, smiling fondly at the old man who has started to build a fire. I turn to help him when she speaks to me again, "I'm Storm. I wanted to thank you for...what you did last night. I-I..." She seems hesitant to continue, but she does, "...don't know what happened to me, and I probably would be dead if you and your wolf hadn't found me. So thanks."

"You don't have to thank me," I reply, feeling sympathetic towards her for all she's been through, "Any other decent man would have done the same." I make a point not to say 'any other man' because here at the Wall that is not the truth, and I don't want to lie.

"Alliser said this castle is full of murderers, rapists, and thieves," Storm informs Aemon and I, her voice taking on an accusatory tone, "So are there any other decent men here?"

I take over building the fire for Aemon as he straightens up and begins to tell Storm about the Brothers of the Night's Watch. He explains that being in the Night's Watch used to be seen as an honor and a privelege, but people don't believe as they once did that the Wall needs protection. Now most of the recruits are exactly what Alliser claimed them to be, but not all. There are still honorable men, like my Uncle Benjen, who chose to take the Black and who are proud of their title. I will be one of those men too.

"Why are you here?" Storm asks after Aemon is finished with his explanation, her inquisitive expression directed at me.

"I...chose to join," I answer, "I want to be a Ranger, like my Uncle Benjen. I will be proud to serve as a Brother of the Night's Watch."

She frowns slightly at my well-rehearsed response, but she doesn't question me further on the subject. Instead, she stares into the flames of the fire I lit moments ago and sighs. "I don't know how I'm ever going to get home."

"Lord Commander Mormont will help you locate your family, my dear," Maester Aemon tells the distraught girl reassuringly, "Not to worry, you will see them again."

She shakes her head sadly, "No, you don't understand." She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, "I'm not from here." She says it firmly, "I don't know how I got here. One minute I was at my parents' house, and the next I was lying naked in the snow. I can't explain it; it was like magic." Storm looks from Aemon to me and back to Aemon again once she's made her confession.

"Like how you healed Aemon of his blindness?" I wonder.

She nods, "Sort of. That was like a...heat...that I felt pass from me to Aemon, but before it was different. When I was at home, I got this headache, and it wasn't bad at first but it started getting worse and worse. I tried to sleep it off, but that didn't help. The pain got to be so bad I wanted to throw up, and actually I did after, but then these waves of pain shot through my body. It was excrutiating. It was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. Then the floor started shaking, and it disappeared, and then I was falling...and I..." She sighs, obviously noting the look of disbelief written across my face, "I know it sounds crazy, Jon, but it is the truth. Why do you think I didn't tell anyone else? I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I can't get home because my home is not here, anywhere. I'm from Chicago, Illinois, in the United States of America. Neither of you know what that is. It doesn't exist here." Her words slowly start to sink in as I realize what she is telling us, "And where I'm from, there is no Wall. There's no Essos, or Narrow Sea, or Westeros; there never was. Do you understand now? Do you believe me?"

"I believe you," Aemon's response comes right away, "Your secret is safe with me, Storm. I will help you in any way that I can. I owe you that, for restoring my sight."

"Thank you," Storm murmurs. Her eyes flick to me and she asks, "What about you, Jon?"

I know not why she cares if I believe her story, and though I promised Maester Aemon I would look out for Storm's safety, I cannot pretend to believe magic brought this girl to the Wall from someplace outside of everything that I've ever known.

Since I do not reply, Storm prompts, "What does your wolf mean to you?" I blink in confusion, and she elaborates, "Last night, I had a dream and in it there was a field, full of dead animals: wolves, lions, and stags. It's all a bloody mess for me, but does it mean anything to you?"

I look to Aemon before answering Storm's question. "The wolf is the symbol for House Stark. The Lannisters use the lion, and the Baratheons use the stag."

"Well, do those people mean anything to you?" She asks, almost exhasperated at this point with my unresponsive answers.

"My father is Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, so yes, it means something to me."

"Winterfell?" Storm repeats, then pursing her rosebud pink lips and frowning ever-so-slightly. "I remember that name...Is there a...a Highgarden that you know of?"

I nod, now befuddled as to how Storm could have knowledge of Winterfell and Highgarden if she claims to be other-worldly. "Both are castles belonging to Lords of Westeros," Maester Aemon supplies, "Ned Stark is Lord of Winterfell in the North, and Mace Tyrell is Lord of Highgarden in the Reach."

"How did you hear these names before?" I ask, not realizing how accusing my own tone has begun to sound with Storm, who is feverish and should be resting, not being held over the fire by me as I question her honesty.

A look of hurt flashes over Storm's face and when she replies she seems to have little hope I'll believe her words. "I dreamt of them, and I thought it was nothing but a dream, but...I've been trying to figure this out and I haven't got a clue. Because...I also dreamt of you, Jon Snow, and your white wolf, so what does that mean?"

_-*-*-*-A-Tale-Of-Magic-And-Monsters-And-Lords-*-*- *- _

_**Storm**_

It wasn't my plan to blurt out to Jon that I've been dreaming about him since before I met him. At least, not the first time we met; I figured I would eventually mention it, after establishing a friendship so as not to completely freak him out. Unfortunately, that isn't how things played out, because once I started spilling the beans on my true origin, I knew Jon wouldn't believe me unless I made him, and the only way I could think to make him believe was to tell him about the dreams. So I did. It might not have been the best first impression, but at least I know that he somewhat believes me now, and he did promise to keep my secret as Aemon did. I'm still unsure what links me to Jon Snow, but I feel safer when he's around, and even though it makes no sense to have such blind trust in a complete stranger, it feels natural.

That night, after Maester Aemon and Jon left me to get some rest, I dreamt of back home in Chicago. It was a terrible dream, a nightmare. In it, I witnessed Patricia and Mark, Ricky, Corrine and Holly, even Trey; not one of them remembered me. It was as if I never existed. When I woke up, I smothered my face in the pillow and sobbed for a long while, because I knew that my dream was the truth. The magic that brought me here erased me from my old life completely. _Storm Parker never was...what does that make me? Do I even exist? Will I eventually just disappear?_

The next day, Aemon assessed I was still too sick and feverish to be allowed out of bed, so I spent it reading, chatting with Aemon and Sam Tarly, who turned out to be better company than I first assumed. The best part of the day was right before bed, when Jon came to visit me with Ghost; that's his direwolf's name. Jon expressed that Ghost was strangely affectionate towards me, the wolf tends to be distant to anyone besides Jon. I think, somehow, I made Ghost remember me through my dreams when I touched his head. I can't believe how crazy that sounds, still, even now a day later, but I really think it's what happened. I felt the images flash from me to him, and the direwolf stared into my eyes with his albino red ones, and I just _knew _Ghost accepted me. I think he might even protect me if it came down to it. I didn't say any of this to Jon, though. I really am not trying to make him think I'm riding the crazy train.

I had another strange dream that night, but this one was not of Chicago. This dream was of a throne made of swords, sitting at the top of a mountain of dead soldiers, all wearing uniforms of different colors and patterns. Climbing the mountain, fighting amongst each other, were two dozen or so contenders for the throne. Some were men, some women, some young, a few very old, but all were clawing to be the first to the throne. It didn't look too special, this iron throne made of swords, it was sort of scary and intimidating, a throne atop a pile of corpses. King of the Dead. Queen of Destruction. Who would want that title?

I haven't been able to let go of the dream all day, especially some of the faces of the contendors for the throne of death and destruction. I recognize them from other dreams, and now I'm beginning to wonder if they might exist here in this world. I've asked Maester Aemon and Jon to help me figure out my dream, if at all possible.

"So the fat, bearded guy is the current King, Robert Baratheon," I state bluntly, "And the vicious blonde is his wife, Queen Cersei. Hmm...the little guy is Tyrion Lannister, and the tall, blonde, Prince Charming-like guy is his brother, Jaime Lannister. Both are brothers to the Queen...Your father is-"

"The Hand to the King," Jon fills in for me, since I keep forgetting the title, "His name is Ned Stark. But my father doesn't want to be King, he didn't even want to serve as Hand, but he couldn't refuse King Robert. You dream-"

"Doesn't literally mean your dad is going to kill people to try and steal the throne," I interrupt, "Jon, I am only telling you what I saw, but you can't always take a dream for what it looks like. Sometimes, you have to decipher the meaning, and I think this dream is a lot deeper than a simple battle for power. This means something more."

"What do you think it means?" Maester Aemon prompts, his wise eyes encouraging me to put together the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle inside my brain.

"Well..." I consider the dreams I've had over the past few days and the facts that I've learned from Aemon and Jon, "I think the King is in danger. I think there is a great possibility his thrown, and maybe even his life, may be taken from him in the near future. His death won't be a resolution though. Instead, it will cause more conflict, eventually causing a war amongst the people. It's the only thing that explains why my dreams have been showing so much death and destruction. Remember I told you about the field of animal corpses? There were wolves, lions, and stags: Starks, Lannisters, and Baratheons. In this dream, there were dead soldiers, and the same three families." I notice Jon bristle up like an angry wolf himself when I mention his father's name, so I quickly remind, "I'm not saying your dad is going to do anything wrong, Jon, but he does play a part in this somewhere."

Jon's face changes from angry to worried when he confesses that the last Hand to King Robert Baratheon was murdered not too long ago, and he doesn't want his father suffering the same fate. I don't blame him for worrying. Politics here is a lot scarier than the bullshit between the Republicans and the Democrats back in the good ole U.S. of A. From what Jon has told me of Ned Stark, and it isn't too much, he is a truly noble man who believes his place should be with his family in Winterfell, but he did what he had to. He's too good of a man to be involved in King's drama. I fear for his life too, because one of the fallen in my dream of the Iron Throne was Ned Stark, but I haven't told Jon.

Aemon retires to his bed chambers, which are closest to mine since I am technically under his care as Maester of Castle Black, reminding Jon to tend to my fire before he goes to bed. Jon does this now, so I assume he's going to leave too. I find myself thinking of a reason to make him stay a little longer, even though I know he's tired and it is selfish of me.

"Jon..." I start hesitantly, "can I ask you something?"

"Yes, Storm," He replies, seeming a bit short-tempered. I guess I can't blame him for being sick of the questions. I've been asking questions all day. Actually, since the day I officially met him, I've been asking questions. It's got to be annoying.

"Nevermind."

"No," Jon sighs, giving me his attention, "What is it?"

"I was just wondering why...why your name is Jon _Snow_ and not _Stark_. I mean, you said your father is Ned Stark, so-"

"I'm his bastard," Jon interjects, his voice bitter, "Not worthy of the Stark name. Snow is the name they give all the bastards in the North."

I allow him a moment to wallow in self-pity before I inform him, "My parents abandoned me when I was three. I don't even know who they are. Patricia, my adoptive mom, found me in the middle of the road and took me in. She gave me the name Storm because there was a bad storm the night she found me. Parker is her husband Mark's last name, and he never even liked me. A name is just a name, Jon, it doesn't make us who we are."

"Maybe where you're from," Jon says quietly, "but not here."

I don't have anything to say to that, because maybe Jon is right. His name is a constant reminder that he's an illegitimate child, both to himself and everyone else. He's obviously been called a bastard his whole life, and even though he lived with his father, he also lived with his father's wife who was _not _his mother. That must have been hard. I know how it feels to be unwanted, but that can't be the only connection between Jon and myself.

"Goodnight Jon," I say from directly behind his back, smiling happily at his surprised reaction. I thought he'd hear me get out of bed, but when he didn't I had to continue sneaking up on him. It was worth it by his reaction. I giggle a little before surprising him further and putting my arms around him in a hug. "Thanks for your help. I'm really sorry if I upset you."

As the words spill from my lips, it feels as though time slows down for a moment. I can still hear myself talking, feel my arms around Jon's shoulders and my chest leaning gently against his, but my eyes are viewing a different scene. A young boy lies motionless on a bed, his face almost as white as his pillow, his eyes closed to the world. I wonder what has happened to him, and suddenly I know. I see the brown-haired boy climbing a tall tower, his feet quick and sure. He comes upon a scene in a window that he shouldn't have; a couple is sharing an intimate moment. The man caught in the act does something obsene and unexpected though: he pushes the boy out the window. I watch in horror as his little body drops, and then I gasp as the fall seems to snap me back into reality.

I grip Jon's shoulders tightly and choke out, "Oh my God, Jon! Who is he? Who's the little boy? The one who was pushed from the tower?"

"My little brother Bran," Jon says, staring down at me in concern, "But he fell. Why would you say he was pushed?"

I drop my arms from Jon's shoulders and start pacing the room, needing to figure out what this vision has shown me. "I thought you said Jaime Lannister and Cersei are brother and sister? Twins, or something?"

"They are," Jon confirms.

I stop pacing and turn to face Jon, holding my stomach as I now feel sick with the truth I've been shown. Unable to hold the information to myself for another moment, I inform Jon, "Your brother didn't fall. He was pushed, by Jaime Lannister...after he witnessed him screwing his sister!"

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I don't know how I did with Jon's POV, but if you like it I can do it again, and if not I'll stick with Mari and Storm's POV's only. Mari was missing from this chapter since I wanted to focus on Jon and Storm's introduction, but she'll be back next chapter:)**

**Please review, I need your feedback:) I've gotten plenty of readers checking out this story but not too many followers/reviewers, so maybe I'm doing something wrong? If the story is lacking something or you don't like something about it, please let me know! I welcome constructive criticism, because I really want to make this an enjoyable story. I have a great idea for it, so let me know if it's worth writing or if it sucks and I'm wasting my time. Thanks. I really do appreciate your opinions.**

**-MissCarolineForbes**


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